


FallingForYou

by xoma_c



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Angst, Emotional Constipation, Eventual Smut, Hidden Feelings, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, insecure elio, mafalda is a mother hen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xoma_c/pseuds/xoma_c
Summary: “Later”.He didn’t have to look back to know the man he thought about the entire day would just be nonchalantly continuing his meal. Gosh, he hated wasting food. But he couldn’t stand sitting there being scrutinized by la muvi star.Basically CMBYN with a little bit of zest in third person perspective so you get a little more insight how Signore Olvier is feeling.. But still super Elio-centric because this boy has such crazy and interesting thoughts. It deviates a little from canon events. Oliver still is staying with the Perlmans and they are still idiots who are secretly pining for each other.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s not like he was gay, because _everyone_ liked Oliver. 

It’s not like he was gay just because he found the guy easy to look at.

Just the other day he saw Piero look at Oliver with some bizarre look that lingered on a little too long. Well then again it could’ve been more like an I want to _be like him_ stare and not an I want to _fuck him_ stare. Or be _fucked by him._ The thought jolted him back a little. He really needs to phone up Marzia and go see some stupid movie with her or something. Maybe bring her to the book store and buy some new shit to dive in to because of how boring this summer is going. He doesn’t remember the past summers being in this small Italian Villa this boring. In fact, it was always something he looked forward to. This summer was different. Everything felt.. different. What was he doing home all the time anyways? It’s not like he has no friends. Just the other day, his mom made a comment about him being some sort of social pariah. Can’t a boy just have a little alone time with out being told there’s something wrong with him. Marzia, Chiara, Piero.. and the typical crew. He knew where they would be at. He just wished he cared enough to find them.

It was now two in the afternoon and he has a very busy day of self-loathing ahead of him. 

Where was Oliver anyways? Probably out. The first week he had the courtesy to say good morning to him, inform him he was heading out for a morning jog, asked him if he wanted anything from town. 

But nowadays, he’ll find himself waking up a little earlier to catch Oliver and ask him about his day. But no matter how early he got up, he would always find himself opening a door to an empty bedroom. 

 

He couldn’t help but wonder what Oliver’s plans were today. Or any day of the given week. In the morning he’ll go jogging or a morning swim. Head to town. Play poker with his folks. Go to the translator. Go down to the beach. Come back with some mundane story of the contrast between life in a small Italian villa compared to his crazy New York living.  
At night, he most likely will go parading with his groupies. Take his pick of any girl in the whole villa. Apparently the girls in this town will drop their panties for any tall American hunk. Or maybe he’s macking on Charia’s face like he did on the dance-floor two nights ago. Man, he was a sleaze. He could at least be a little more-

 

“ELIOOO!” 

Mafalda’s squeaky voice brought him back to reality. What did she want?

“WHAT?” 

“Come down for lunch”

“Not hungry”

“You skipped breakfast this morning”

“Was tired”

“Cuccoilo, look at chuu! chuu are getting very skinny! Signore Oliver just had his third meal and you sitting here doing nothing. Don’t you want to be more like him?”

He glared at her. That was apparently enough to send her away. 

Wait, Oliver was home? His stomach growled. Well, he was getting a little hungry. He threw on his shirt and headed down the stairs. There the older man was, sitting on the living room sofa reading a book. He looked like he was in a good mood. 

“What you reading?”

The younger boys voice startled him. Elio would have laughed but decided to hold back as he watched the man’s face contort back in to the book. 

_Silence._

Really, so he’s not even talking to him now, who does he think he - 

“Umberto Eco” he grumbled. 

He didn’t even bother to look up. Hinting the poor lad to walk away because this conversation is not going anywhere, or he wasn’t interested, or guessed that his younger counterpart wouldn’t have known who Umberto Eco was because he was a fairly new author. 

“Oh. It’s a hell of a mystery” he chimed back, almost a little too pleased that he had picked up the same exact book on his trip to the book store two weeks ago. 

“Yeah” he gazed up at Elio’s face with a hint of amusement. “It’s different”. He was still staring at him. Maybe he does want to talk. 

“Yeah, finished it a week ago, man, the whole monastery thing with the..”  
And…. he’s gone. Staring back at the pages of his book. Like their conversation meant nothing. Like Elio meant nothing. His chilly demeanour was enough to make Elio want to curl up under the covers even in the heated summer afternoon. So he headed back upstairs. Appetite gone. 

***

He woke up to the sound of bell chiming which meant dinner. Boy, was he happy to hear that bell ring, he was so hungry he could eat a cow. He didn’t even bother fixing up his hair and sprinted downstairs to the table. 

Crap- Oliver was there. By now he was used to the older boy skipping out on dinners when it wasn’t rainy outside, that it took him by surprise when he saw the blonde setting up the plates with his mom. Dammit! He should have fixed his hair. He looked like all kinds of stupid right now probably. He would go back and fix it now but the smell of wholly delicious food lured him to sit next to his father on the dinner table. Mafalda brought out the marinated san remo shrimps with caviar and scallions. He wasn’t the biggest fan of shrimp but he was so hungry he could kiss her. He dove in to his food with such eager and chewed in bliss that it earned a chuckle from his father. 

“Amore, slow down or you’ll choke on your food” his mother reached out and touched his arm affectionately.

“Mio dio, he’s been skipping his meals the entire day! Someone needs to watch this boy!” Mafalda chipped in. Elio rolled his eyes. Nobody asked her. 

“Elli, why have you been skipping your meals?” a look of concern brushed through his father’s face as he asked. 

He scratched his head. “I dunno, I just been kind of busy.”

“Doing vat??, you sit all day in your room” Mafalda interrupted. Now would be a good time to strangle her. He felt his face heat up. Man, why did Oliver have to be here of all nights. Quick, think of something- 

“I’ve been having ..issues..with Marzia, so I’ve just been sort of out of it”. 

“Oh?” his father questioned. 

“yeah, I don’t really feel like talking about it”

He looked up and found Oliver staring at him with an undecipherable expression on his face. 

“Well, you should take care of yourself.” 

Wait- was that Oliver who just spoke? Well he didn’t expect that coming from his lips. It sounded genuine too. Or maybe he was mocking him. You should _take care of yourself?_. As in you should take care of yourself and _stop being pathetic_ or was it a you should take care of yourself because _i’m worried about you._ Or maybe he doesn’t care at all and he’s just saying it to look good in front of his father. He stared at the older man’s face, trying to look for any signs of …anything. All he found was an apathetic expression on his handsome American face.

“as if you care” he muttered quiet enough so that only Oliver who was staring at him would understand. 

“What?” Oliver asked. He spoke again as if to cover up the awkwardness between them, “ Marzia probably doesn’t want her boyfriend looking a little too thin” he winked. 

That _bastard._

“Listen to Signore Oliver! He’s a very smart man.” Mafalda interrupted. That woman seriously had a death wish.

“I’m not hungry anymore” he got up a little too suddenly as everyone at the table turned to look at him. “Heading upstairs, night.” His mother and father looked a little concerned. 

“Later”. 

He didn’t have to look back to know the man he thought about the entire day would just be nonchalantly continuing his meal. Gosh, he hated wasting food. But he couldn’t stand sitting there being scrutinized by la muvi star. 

A little too _thin_. A little too THIN?! Who did this man think he was. Not everyone can be born a six foot five greek god with toned muscles of steel. Elio looked back at the face staring at him in the bathroom mirror. All of a sudden, he became a little too self-aware of his own body. He knew he was a little on the skinny side, but he never bothered subjecting himself to any cruel thoughts about it. Now he felt a little revolted at himself. Oliver thought he was thin? Well he didn’t say it directly, but he might as well have. The little hope he buried inside his head that Oliver would ever want him quickly vanished. Gone. Along with any sense of confidence he had. 

He heard a knock on the door followed by Oliver’s voice. 

“Hey, are you alright?” He said in his alpha male, super hunky, six foot five voice. 

“Yeah, do you need the washroom? I’m done now”. He opened the door and found the taller man staring at him. He had a look of concern on his face. Was this a trap? Why is he asking him if he’s alright?

Oliver fidgeted a little with his fingers. “I shouldn’t have said what I said at the dinner table.” 

Elio looked away. Crap- did he react a little much at the dinner table. He didn’t think anyone would notice when he got up and left. Come to think about it, he remembered feeling like he was going to cry. Did he look like a wussy. Oliver must think he’s some oversensitive little boy now.

“What are you talking about?” he managed to muster out. 

“You know, about you looking too thin.”

“Oh.” Great, it sounded worse coming out of his mouth again. He did not want to hear that. It was like hearing someone apologizing to you that you’re poor. Or you’re stupid. Or that you’re just a really unfortunate being and they feel the need to patronize you because they have it so much better than you. 

He kept looking down, he couldn’t look at Oliver’s face now. He felt all kinds of stupid. “It’s alright, you were right. Nobody really wants someone with my body anyways, I get it.” 

“Elio, I’m-“ he heard Oliver take a sharp breath. The younger boy looked up and was met by furrowed eyebrows and concerned blue eyes with an almost pained expression. “You know that’s not what I meant right? I’m sorry if you - ”. 

“It’s alright, you don’t have to apologize or anything.” Elio tried to sound a little re-assuring. Which was odd. Why was he consoling the other guy when he was the one who had been insulted. “I’m tired, going to head to bed now.”  
And with that, he headed back towards the door that connected to his room and closed it. Man, he really felt like crying right now. Why was he such a wuss. Because Oliver called him thin? Or because the thought that Oliver would never want to caress his body with his own made him more depressed than ever? 

***

The next morning, he got up early and started brushing his teeth. He thought about calling up Marzia. Let his parents witness that they’ve “made up” over their fictional issues that he fabricated over the dinner table. The door of the washroom connecting to Oliver’s room was open. That’s strange. It always was closed. He looked inside his old room with toothpaste still in his mouth. His room looked the same, except it was scattered all over with Oliver’s things. Shorts hanging around the shelves, books and manuscripts scattered all over the little desk at the corner. His clothes, his bags, even his smell of sun tan lotion and fancy shampoo smothered the entire room. 

The only thing missing was Oliver. 

He probably just forgot to close the door or something. As Elio continued brushing his teeth, his eyes met the mirror. Then, he remembered the last time he looked at himself and how crappy he felt. Screw Oliver and his stupid face. He doesn’t need his opinions about what’s attractive to girls. He was going to meet up with Marzia and maybe get lucky today. She’s never voiced any of her concerns over his _thin_ body. 

“Hey.”

All of a sudden as if his thoughts had called forth Oliver’s presence, he was standing there outside the washroom door in Elio’s old room. He was wearing his morning jogging shorts, the white ones with the black stripes on the side. 

“Morning” Elio mumbled. The tooth brush was still in his mouth. He looked over and Oliver looked a little uneasy. 

“You just woke up?” He said in his annoying Oliver voice. 

“No, I’m just brushing my teeth because I’m heading to bed”. 

That got him a chuckle. He turned his head towards the older man with a _what do you want from me look._

Then for the first time, it seemed as if Oliver didn’t know what to say next. Like he was trying to figure out the most complex equation in the world. 

“Just finished jogging.” He ended up saying. 

Wow, was he being a captain obvious today or what. “I know.” 

He took a gulp of water and rinsed the toothpaste away, expecting the older man to have disappeared by the time he wiped his mouth off his sleeve. 

But there he was. Leaning towards the door frame and staring. Looking at him, standing there in his white shorts, with sweat glistening all over his body. It started to make Elio a little anxious. 

“What are you doing today?” Oliver said. He looked at him like he cared. 

Or maybe that’s what Elio wanted to think. Oliver never gave two shits about what he was doing the past week. He’s stopped caring ever since the first week when he asked what he was doing out of courtesy. 

“I don’t know.. probably just going to head out and stuff..” He didn’t want to tell him about his plans with Marzia though. Well he didn’t even know if he was going to go through with those plans anyways. In case Oliver was trying to make new ones with him. Ha! A boy can dream. 

“Oh, okay. Cool” Oliver replied, his voice changed. He sounded guarded again. Not like the same Oliver that was talking to him a second ago. “I’m just going to take a quick shower if you don’t mind, Later!”. 

A wave of disappointment jolted through his body. Of course! He just needed the bathroom and was trying to make small talk. To think that he even remotely gave a crap about Elio. Well isn’t that embarrassing. He felt a little bit angry too. Then he fleeted out the door and went straight for the phone to ring up Marzia.


	2. Chapter 2

Sex with Marzia really wasn’t that bad. She had a nice body and she smelled all flowery like roses or something. Wait- did he really think aloud that it _wasn’t that bad_. Is that a normal response for a guy. What would Piero think if he got the chance to sleep with Marzia. Would he be all giddy for hours after or would he think it _wasn’t that bad._ Also, why was he thinking about his girlfriend having sex with other guys. Did he just call her his girlfriend? Meh, he didn’t really like the sound of it. But that’s what she was right? She talks to him, goes on movie dates with him, he buys books for her, and they just finished having sex that _wasn’t that bad._

When he came home at night, he crept through his old room and found that Oliver had already been asleep. It seemed a little early for bed time, it was only 10pm. He was probably getting old. 

Elio looked in the mirror once again. He thought about the way Marzia gasped his name when he was inside her. That was a good sign right. She obviously liked him enough to sleep with him. She probably was attracted to him, specifically his body. Then he quickly realized his thoughts. Had he been so desperate to sleep with Marzia to feel better about himself after what Oliver said? Dammit. He felt like scum, the worst human being in the world. Then a little sorry for her. But he couldn’t bring himself to ever tell her the truth. He could try to love her, and make an effort with her. Maybe get her some seventeenth century romance poetry books and some flowers. Maybe then, he’d get used to doing things like that and actually end up thinking the sex was good. _Great_ even. He took a quick shower and headed off to bed. That night, instead of dreaming of brown eyes and soft lips, he dreamt of blue eyes and rough hands. 

***

He started making a habit of skipping breakfast with the family just because he knew that Oliver would be there. It was apparently the only meal of the day where their American guest would have no excuse not to attend. Plus, the guy probably loved the soft-boiled eggs too much to skip out on it. Now that he blew Elio off once again, the poor boy felt all the more inclined to start avoiding him. He didn’t have time to play whatever game the other guy was playing. It’s like one minute he starts giving Elio concerned glances, asking about his opinions on things and listening so keenly as if the younger boy’s opinion mattered. He even went as far as massaging his shoulder once in the middle of some stupid volleyball game he was playing with his girl Chiara. What was the guy’s deal? Why do the whole nice guy shtick all to be a stone-cold bitch the very next second. Elio swears, at the end of his stay with them, he’ll reveal that this was all just some sort of deliberate social experiment he needed to perform on the professor’s son to see how long it takes before the subject goes bat shit crazy. 

He looked at his watch that was left on the drawer beside him. It was half past eight. He’ll start heading down at nine when everyone is done their breakfast and grab whatever’s leftover. He didn’t want Mafalda on his ass again about eating more like Signore Oliver. 

Thinking about Oliver hands on his shoulder got him feeling all weird again. When he grabbed the water bottle out of Elio’s hands, he didn’t expect the older man to reach out and touch the spot between the nape of his neck and shoulders. Let alone dig his fingers in and rub it. It had made his whole body flush for a second. It had scared the living shit out of Elio just thinking about how his body would react if he had let him continue. But it irritated him when he stoped. He wanted it to go on forever. Eventually, somehow.. Marzia’s frail hands replaced his rough, sturdy ones. He wondered how those hands would feel on other parts of his body. Running up towards his back and then down to his hips. He thought about the way Oliver pulled his body towards him during that day when he tried to get away from his grasp. He wouldn’t mind it if he did that in bed. What would they do? He’s never thought about being with another guy before. Elio started reaching down in to his boxers. He was getting hella horny just thinking about the way Oliver would man-handle him in bed. Lift him up as if he weighed nothing. Pull him in and pin him on to the bed underneath his body. Whisper some romantic shit in to his ear. Tell him how much he wants to fuck Elio. Jeezus, it didn’t take long for him to come. It never did when he thought about Oliver while taking care of his business. Afterwards, he’d feel a little bit guilty about it. God, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if Oliver found out that he jerked off to some dumb memory of them. He’d probably beat the shit out of Elio. Finally, he took his hands out of his boxers and laid in his bed for a few minutes. What time was it now? Three quarters past eight. Great, just enough time to shower his shame off. 

All of a sudden, Oliver bursted through his door. What the hell-

“Hey.” Oliver looked at him all casually like the younger boy wasn’t laying on his bed with his boxers looking a little sketchy. Elio threw the covers over his bottom half. 

“Wha- What are you doing?” Elio squeaked like an idiot. 

“Mafalda’s wondering why you’ve been keen on skipping breakfasts these days? Is her cooking really that bad?”. 

Elio couldn’t breathe, he felt like some sort of fly that was trapped between two window panes. “HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?”.

“Oops, sorry was I interrupting something?” he retorted smugly with his eyebrows raised. 

What if Oliver had walked in a few minutes earlier. He couldn’t handle the thought. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Man, Elio was pissed. “You don’t just go flying in to somebody else’s room like you own the damn place”.

“Listen buddy, I don’t know what’s gotten in to you but-“ Oliver was starting his bullshit again. 

“NO- YOU LISTEN _BUDDY_ , I DON’T KNOW YOU- YOU’RE NOT MY MOM, OR MY DAD, OR EVEN MAFALDA. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO BUST IN TO MY ROOM LIKE THAT.” 

 

 _I don’t know you._ Those words hit Oliver like a brick to the wall. Had he not been attempting to get to know the kid? I mean sure, he knew they weren’t the best of friends, but he liked to think that they were something. Just two nights ago, he ended up asking the boy what his thoughts were on _The Name of the Rose_ , that Umberto Eco book they both ended up getting. He was initially surprised and a little bit impressed. Of course Elio would have already read the only Italian novel he had chosen out of the entire book store. Intelligent, bright Elio. It overwhelmed him so much that he didn’t really want to talk about it with him at first. He had just started diving in to the story and he didn’t want to sound like an idiot in front of him. They ended up talking for nearly two hours that other night though. Why was he being such a little shit right now? 

Oliver grimaced. “Wow, tell me how you really feel huh? I don’t understand what the big deal is, I didn’t knock so what?”

Elio looked down and frowned, he didn’t know how to say _I just finished jerking off to the thought of you fucking me so yeah, i’m a little bit annoyed that you walked in like some air-head._ So he stayed silent. 

That seemed to have ticked off the older man even more. “Seriously, what the hell is your problem? I didn’t catch you jacking off did I?”. He snorted, as if it was such a funny joke. 

Elio felt his entire body heat up. Was Oliver for real? God, this was so weird. Him saying the words _jack off_. Him acknowledging that Elio could have been _jacking off_ when he walked in. He just wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. He stared at Oliver, silently pleading him to just leave, he couldn’t take this anymore. All of a sudden, perhaps due to some twisted nature of this humiliating situation, Elio lost a few screws in his head. 

“Yeah, I was.” _Holy crap_ \- he was going to get himself killed. 

“What” Oliver stood there and at first it looked like he was genuinely confused, trying to figure out what Elio was saying _Yeah I was_ to. It could mean a lot of things, but of course, as the older man recalled what he had said last to Elio, an instant change in his expression. _Yeah I was._ If Elio wasn't so off his rocker with the whole situation, he would've noticed the red creeping up from Oliver's neck on to his face. 

“I was jerking off right before you walked in here. You interrupted my session. Can you please leave now” Well, technically he had already finished. But the tense awkwardness that washed over Oliver’s face and body made the fib a little more worth it. Man, he was feeling ballsy right now. 

Oliver stood there for a few seconds, then turned around and shut the door as he walked out. 

_Great,_ they probably won't be on speaking terms for a while. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter's going to be a little more Oliver-centric...you'll get to see what's going on in that worrying head of his. feedback is always appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

_“Oliver”._

He felt someone whimpering on his neck. It sent shivers down his spine. There was a familiar scent of clementine with a hint of vanilla, a scent that he had gotten so used to the past three weeks. Along with a body writhing underneath the older man’s.

It was _Elio._

Oliver shifted his head back to meet the younger boy’s lidded eyes..those hazel eyes he could stare at for days and never get tired of.

A strained moan fell out of the other boys lips this time. “ah- Oliver-right there..don’t stop”. He muttered over and over again as he fluttered his long eyelashes.

_Never, I’ll never stop._

God, Elio looked so good like this. So perfect. 

“Fuck-“ Oliver’s voice cracks, he runs his hands through the boy’s curly locks. 

Fuck. That’s right, they were fucking. The bed rocked as their bodies shifted in unison. He watched as Elio’s pale body jerked in and out of the bedsheets as he thrusted in to him. God, he wanted to tell him how gorgeous he looked. How precious his body was to Oliver, how much he would take care of him. How he, and only he would be capable of wrecking Elio like this, and then putting him back together again. No one else.

He had his legs wrapped around Oliver’s hips and his arms around his torso, digging his finger nails in to Oliver’s back gasping for air like it was all too much. His heart was about to burst open  _“..Oliver..Oliver..”_  he panted, he sounded so desperate and shaken. He loved hearing his name tremble out of the boy's lips. It made a hunger coil deep within his guts. Elio spun his head in to the side of his pillow and buried his face against it..

He moved Elio’s head back toward his gaze.  _Don’t look away love, want to see you when you-_

Fear swallowed Oliver’s entire body as the warm hazel eyes that were staring at him flashed in to icy blue-grey ones. 

_It was his father._

Now  _that_  was a real boner killer. He was suddenly transported back to his home in New England. The one he grew up in his entire childhood. He remembered the distinctive white and gold button tufted chair that occupied the corner of his father’s home-office. His father was standing behind his fancy mahogany desk looking outside the window with his hands clasped behind his back. It was raining.

“ _Oliver,_ Are you hearing me on this?” his dad spoke with the same disdain that he had his entire life. As if every conversation he had with his son was such a hindrance to him.

“Yes sir.” Oliver quickly responded. _Dammit._ He was 17 again, standing in his father’s office like some kid getting a lecture from the school principle. He didn’t know what he was saying yes sir to, but he knew he didn’t want to make his dad angry again.

“You can screw around all you want boy, but you will never bring such a disgrace like _that_ inside our house again. You understand?”

 _Oh._

He instantly knew who his father was talking about. Evelyn, a girl he had brought home just a few days after his 17th birthday only because he thought things had been getting serious. He had met her through one of his buddies during a Led Zeppelin concert. She lived in a scanty town a couple dozen miles away, and he remembered having to take the train for an hour and a half to get to her every time he wanted to see her. But it was worth it, she made him feel more alive than any of the snooty girls in his hometown. She did not come from an affluent family, but that just made Oliver love her all the more. 

His father turned around and bore a stern look at Oliver. Then his face darkened. “I’ll kill him before I let you throw away your future like that”.

Oliver stilled with terror. Shit- Did he just say _him_ ?

 

He woke up in a cold sweat. His heart was beating like a runaway train. It took him a good minute to calm down and realize his father doesn’t have the slightest clue who Elio is. That he had nothing to do with the lad. That he was five thousand miles away, across the Atlantic ocean dwelling in his manor. Elio was here. With him. In Crema. Nobody can touch a hair on his head.

He was present day Oliver again. The sudden contrast between his 17 year old self and now made him feel like a damn coward. The way his father could scare the living hell out of him with mere words, but has any of that really changed? He barely talked to him nowadays. Once in a while, he would ring up Oliver to ask- well more like demand from him a set date for his wedding with Sofia. The woman he had set him up with nearly three years ago.  _"Soon sir, I just have to finish my doctorate."_  Oliver would say. As if the man still held such a tenacious grip on his life. Truth is, he did. His body and mind may have grown the last seven years, but there was still a part of him that was incapable of disobeying his father. He cursed at himself.

He sat up for a few more minutes, still having some existential crisis over the whole thing. 

Just for the sake of making sure Elio was ok, he quietly opened the door to the boy’s room. He listened to his gentle breathing to make sure he was asleep, and not pretending to be. Sometimes, Oliver would come home at night to find the younger boy's room door wide open with him just laying there in stick formation, holding his breath with closed eyes. God, he was such a dork.

There’s no way Oliver would’ve bought in to that. The boy always curled up in to a ball when he actually slept. Like he was right now. There was a book tucked behind him, awkwardly pressed against his shoulder blade. That couldn’t have been comfortable. He reached out to take the book from underneath, the movement seemed to have stirred him awake. Elio was such a light sleeper. He wouldn’t make it one night in New York with the loud city traffic, especially with the taxi drivers and their godawful obsessive honking.

But then again, Oliver himself, would probably need time to adjust back to the loud city life. He was already a little too comfortable with the peace and quiet that blanketed over the Perlman residence at night. _Well, Shit._ he was going to miss this place. He was only three weeks in and he already felt the dread of the inevitable moment of saying goodbye. To this villa. This home. To Elio. 

“What’s going on” the young boy murmured. He rubbed his eyes for a good minute and shifted himself up so that his back aligned with the headboard. This would be a good time for Oliver to just dip out of the room. If Elio asks tomorrow, maybe he can shrug this off and ask the kid if he's been experiencing any symptoms of visual hallucinations. After-all, it was the dead of night, and he had no reason to be lurking in Elio’s room. God, he felt like such a creep. 

The younger boy continued staring at him in a daze. Like he didn’t know whether this was real life or not. The longer he looked, the more anxious Oliver felt. Why couldn’t he just make up something. _Hey, I ran out of pens.. and I was trying to see if you had any?_ No, that wasn’t realistic enough. He had a jar of pens sitting over at his desk right now. _Hey, I just wanted to ask you where the local bank was, I’m really keen on getting a bank account during my stay here._ Yeah, of course that was such a normal thing to do.. to wake someone up at 3am to ask about bank accounts. 

“Are you ok?” Elio asked all concerned. Right this moment, even at six foot five towering over the 17 year old in front of him, he was the one who felt like a kid. 

“Uh, yeah… Were you asleep?” He blurted out. He cursed in his head. What a lame thing to say. 

“Sort of, but it’s fine. Did you have a nightmare or something?”

That had Oliver taken aback. It was not what he expected the younger boy to say. 

Elio flickered his eyes a little bit and looked away. “It’s just that you look a little ..like the way I would after I had a shitty dream”. 

Oliver let out a deep breath. 

He begrudgingly admit that it was something like that. Then Elio asked him to stay and talk about Carl Jung’s theories on dreams. They ended up talking in Elio's room until the sun came up.


	4. Chapter 4

“I like your new chain”

Elio looked up. Him and Oliver and just come back from a morning jog. It was the first time he was invited to join him on his daily routine. As much as he enjoyed watching Oliver run in his super short shorts, it was a pain in the ass to catch up with the older guy. Now they were just chilling in the living room. Oliver was relaxing on their sofa with his legs spread out. Elio was sitting at the other end of the room on a wooden chair tilting it back as far as he can with out falling. 

“Thanks, me too.” It was his Star of David pendant that his grandmother gave him when he was 7. He fucked around with it for a couple of days, but his mom told him he didn’t have to wear it if he didn’t want to. So he tucked it away somewhere and had forgotten about it ever since. It had taken him just about 3 hours to find it. 

“Looks good on you”. Oliver was staring at him all weird again. 

He tried his hardest not to blush. Oliver looked a bit tired. He probably didn’t manage to get much sleep the night before. Somehow he ended up in Elio’s room smack dab in the middle of the night looking like some deranged ghost. He would’ve just about shit in his pants if he hadn’t recognized that it was Oliver. It was easy to distinguish the guy because Elio knew him. He had every inch of Oliver memorized and engrained in his head. The way he stood, the way he talked, what his scent was. He could tell whether it was Oliver by the way he opened a door or the sound of his footsteps. He _knew_ Oliver. Which was a bit pathetic considering the fact that Oliver probably didn’t give two shits about him. They had talked the entire night yesterday and Elio was still puzzled as to why Oliver would actually want to spend time with him. They had started rambling to each other about anything and everything that they could possibly conjure up with. The man must’ve had some hell of a nightmare to want to be in company with Elio like that. When the sun had suddenly hit his room that morning, he hadn’t realized him and Oliver had yapped with each other for that long. He panicked a little because he didn’t want it to end. He thought the older guy would just get up, walk away, continue with his life like he normally did. But instead, he asked Elio if he wanted to go on a morning jog with him. 

“Right now?” Elio had asked.

“Yeah, unless you’re too tired to.” 

“Nope! I’m not tired at all!” Elio blurted out a little too eagerly. He told himself to tone it down a notch. “I mean.. yeah, I’m just going to change”.

“Ok, meet you downstairs” and then he was out the door. Elio felt all giddy like some stupid love-sick girl. He quickly got changed and skipped downstairs. 

Now, he was sitting across the older man, and he couldn’t believe that they had spent about five consecutive hours with each other _non-stop._ He cautiously enjoyed every minute of it, he knew there would be some point in time where Oliver would just get up and leave him again. 

“Stop tilting your chair so far back, it’s giving me anxiety.” 

“What you mean, like this?” Elio pushed his chair even further back with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“Jeezus, stop!”

Elio cackled like a little shit “Aww _OLIVER,_ are you actually worried about me?” 

“Yeah, I just don’t want your dad to hold me responsible for when you crack your head open”. 

They both laughed.

 

“I see you two made up” Professor Perlman was suddenly standing at the door. They both looked up at him a little caught off guard. 

“Huh” Elio said confusedly. 

“… You and Marzia?” his father replied “she dropped by this morning and asked for you. She also told me to tell you she’s looking forward to your date tonight”. 

“Huh?” It took a minute for Elio to recall what his dad was talking about. Oh yeah, just last week after they slept together, he had asked her to come see _Vigilante_ at the movie theatre with him on Tuesday night. Crap- today was Tuesday. 

His father had an amused look on his face. “oh son, you didn’t forget now did you”. 

“Uh no! I just-” Elio tried his best to play it off. “Yeah, thanks for letting me know”. 

“No problemo!” he still had some amused smile on his face. He did a double take at both the boys in the living room, then turned around to leave. 

 

“So.. things are getting pretty serious huh?” Oliver looked at him with some sort of weird smirk. 

“Probably not gonna go” Elio waited until his father had left the front door to say it out loud. He didn’t know why he felt the need to tell Oliver. 

“And why’s that?” Oliver raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Dunno” he puckered his lips to the side “don’t feel like it I guess”. 

Oliver let out a sigh then lie down on the sofa with his hands behind his head. “She really seems to like you.”

“I guess.”

It was quiet for a minute.

“What about you? Any plans with Chiara?” Elio inquired like a nosy idiot. He was debating whether or not to ask. He didn’t want to overstep his boundries again after Oliver flipped out on him for meddling in his relationship with Chiara last week. 

“Nope.” 

“You guys look good together” Elio lied. He really didn’t think that. Oliver could do so much better. 

“You think so?” He then turned his head around to stare at Elio dead in the eyes.

It made Elio fidget a little. “Yeah, you’re both good-looking people, I mean if you were to walk down the streets together people would be like ‘wow’ look at that couple over there.. they look good together.. because you know what they say, good-looking people tend to look good together..” he was rambling. 

Oliver chuckled. “She’s not my type”. 

That made Elio sneer. “Then why the hell are you always with her?". _Oops,_ he said that a little too aggressively. Dammit, now would be a good time to hop in to a time machine and stop himself from this train wreck that was about to happen. He looked over at Oliver, the older man was staring at the ceiling, he looked like he was deep in thought. 

“Not everyone I’m with has to be exactly what I’m looking for in life, you don’t seem to be too tied down with Marzia”. 

“Yeah, but I’m seventeen, you don’t have to be in love at seventeen”. 

“I was in love at seventeen”. He was still staring at the ceiling. It surprised Elio a bit. This was the first time Oliver ever revealed anything that remotley had to do with his love life, or his past for that matter. 

Oliver shifted his eyes a little bit. He could tell that the older man was debating on whether speaking more or just dropping the subject all together. “Didn’t work out though”. 

“Why?” Elio couldn’t help but ask.

“My pops didn’t approve of her.” 

“Oh. Why?” Elio asked again like some curious child. 

“Don’t know”. He could tell what Oliver really meant by _don’t know,_ was _don’t want to talk about it,_ so he stopped asking altogether. Elio started to fidget around with his pendant. 

“What about you” the older man asked, “you ever been in love?”. 

Elio thought about it for a second. “I don’t know if it constitutes as being in love when the other person doesn’t love you back”. 

_“The love that lasts longest is the love that is never returned”_ Oliver cited out loud. 

“Ha, Maugham!” Elio exclaimed. “Very fitting words Mr. Oliver. Thank you”

Oliver smiled. “So who is it?”

“Huh?” 

“Who’s this person you’re in love with” it was almost as if the older man was taunting him. Elio felt like blushing. 

“None of your business” he quipped back. 

“Can I guess?” Oliver looked away from the ceiling and on to the younger boy who was still fiddling with his Star of David pendant. He contorted his face. 

“What? You’re not going to be able to-“

“Is it Chiara?” 

Elio blinked twice. “Um..no.” What the hell? He tried his best not to make a disgusted face. He was almost programmed to hate her because of her affiliation with Oliver. "Why?" 

“Well..you _are_ always bringing her up”.

Ew. He could not believe that Oliver would even remotely believe that he would ever, ever be in _love_ with CHIARA. He hated that chick with a passion. Well hate is a strong word. More like detested the shit out of. Oliver could probably read the disgust dripping off of his face.

“Alright, so if it’s not Chiara.. and we can cross Marzia off the list”. Elio nodded, this was fun.

“Is it…” Oliver scratched his chin to feign that he was thinking real hard “Piero?”  
Elio bursted out laughing. “Yeah, you got me man,” Elio was still laughing “Oh, the nights I longed to pet his luscious hippie hair."

Oliver started cracking up too. 

“Alright…alright..I’ll stop bugging you about it. Gonna head down town to grab a few manuscripts”. 

“Ok” Elio said. He knew at some point Oliver had to leave. It wasn’t like he had the guy all to himself forever. He enjoyed a good night and a morning with him. That was more than he could ever ask for.

“You wanna come with?” He looked over to Elio. 

Elio’s heart just about leapt out of his chest. “Sure, I’m not doing anything today.” Then they both headed out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> harhar..I think we can all pinpoint the exact moment Oliver knew who Elio was in love with in this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

He knew it. He knew it. He fucking knew it! When things are going real good, something bad happens. It’s almost like the law of the universe or something. 

Elio sat on his living room couch trying to pass time with Heraclitus’ book _The Cosmic Fragments._ It was his seventh time re-reading the first line of the same paragraph again. Well, he wasn’t actually concentrating on it, more-so distracting himself with it. It’s not like he hadn’t already read this entire book twice on the day he found out that Oliver’s manuscript would be based on Heraclitus’ philosophical findings. It wasn’t particularly an interesting subject either, but he managed to spark up two gratifying conversations with Oliver thanks to this lovely book. He threw it on to the coffee table, it skidded off and landed on the floor. _Wonderful._

Oliver has been avoiding him again. The worst part is, things have been going good. _Great,_ even. Elio had almost forgotten the sting of the older man’s resting bitch face. After spending the past few days engulfed in his presence, the sudden loss of Oliver had left him feeling as empty and cold as a bird’s nest in December. He knew he shouldn’t be so dramatic about it. But he couldn’t help thinking that it was his own fault. Perhaps if he hadn’t followed Oliver on that afternoon stroll …

***

They had been sitting outside on the patio of _Bettolino_ , Oliver's favourite café. Both of them have been having some intense debate over the morality of nihilism or something like that when the waitress brought over their order, a cappuccino for Elio, and a caffè Americano for Oliver. Elio tried not to scoff at his choice of drink. Oliver vowed that he would try every item off the menu before heading back to New York. 

He took a gracious sip of his caffè Americano and sighed like it was the best thing he ever drank. Clearly, enjoying it a little too much.

“You know Oliver, the coffee here isn’t as great as you foreigners make it out to be.” Elio was sitting with his face propped in his hand. 

“Yeah? Well guess what my options are in New York? Black or with cream and sugar.”

“Y’know, there’s specialized cafés in America that you can get your coffee from asides from Dunkin donuts right?” Elio teased. 

Oliver squinted behind his sunglasses “Fine, but it doesn’t taste as authentic as it does here okay?” he quipped back like an offended man-child. It made Elio grin. 

“Besides, who has time to stand in line at some pretentious coffee house and wait fifteen minutes for their order?” Oliver rambled on “Not any New Yorker I know, that’s for sure.” 

They sat there in comfortable silence for the next few minutes. Oliver was looking at the daily general newspaper, _la Repubblica,_ that he had taken with him on their stroll. It was fully written in Italian, so Elio knew the older boy would attempt to read a few lines, then focus on the photos when it was all too confusing for him. After a little bit, he put down the newspaper and gazed at their surrounding. 

“It’s so different here…” he had his shades on but Elio could still tell he was admiring the landscape in front of him.

“Elio, you wouldn’t believe how busy and ..fast the life back in NY is. You blink your eyes, and all of a sudden you’ve missed out on everything”. 

Elio thought about it. He’d been to New York city a couple of times during his father’s work trips. He never thought about what it would be like to live there, day in, day out. The city definitely had an appeal about it, the liveliness and spontaneity probably made it an endless adventure to permanently reside there. He grew up in Santa Clara County, near Stanford University where his dad worked at. How boring his hometown must be compared to that of Oliver’s. 

“Gotta admit, I’m kind of jealous you get to experience this beautiful villa every summer”

“Meh, I could say the same for you and NY” Elio took the last sip of his Cappuccino. 

 

They left the place by 3pm and started reeling their bikes towards the pathway home. As they passed by the local convenience store, Oliver placed his bike near the metal frame of the store-front’s porch. “Wait a second out here, i’m just going to grab something”. 

“Ok” Elio sat outside idly across the road, waiting for his Americano pal to return. 

It was taking quite some time, he looked down at his watch. Fifteen minutes have passed since Oliver had walked in. Knowing him, he was probably yapping away with the store-owner about all kinds of ridiculous things. It was time for Elio to go in and tell him that chit-chat time was over. He promptly got up and made his way towards the store entrance when all of a sudden- he felt the wind get knocked out of his pipes. 

 

 _“DIO MIO! DIO MIO! STAI BENE? DIO MIO!”_ he heard a man call from afar. 

He was laying face-planted on the ground. There were voices murmuring around him.. voices he couldn’t recognize. He tried to turn his head around and saw that the convenience store entrance had transported like a few meters away from him. _This couldn't be good._

He heard some Italian lady speak, she was probably old by the way her voice jittered. She kept mumbling something along the lines of… are you blind? are you blind? did you not see the poor boy walking? 

Ok… So he was hit by a car? He’s never been hit by a car before. Boy! It didn’t seem all that bad. He didn’t feel hurt at all- asides from the shock and confusion of it all.

Then out of nowhere- he felt like the nerves around his left foot set on fire. He wailed in pain. It felt like someone had taken his foot and wrung it out. Kind of like the way Mafalda wrung the dish towels dry, _if she had a deep-rooted vengeance and wanted the towels dead._

_“Elio?”_ He heard from afar. Now there was a voice he recognized.

Then in a matter of seconds, Oliver was at his side. “Elio?!” his voice was trembling, it made Elio nervous. “Are you ok? Can you move? _Elio, can you hear me?!_ ”

A man with a thick italian accent started speaking “I am so sorry sir, he came out of nowhere, I-” 

“m’fine” Elio groaned as he tried to get up. He looked around. There was a crowd of 7-8 people surrounding him. On-goers with concerned looks on their faces and some hopping over to see what this whole ruckus was about. Oliver had his hands clutched against Elio’s back, holding on to him like some petrified mother. 

Elio gave himself a face-palm. “ohmygod, this is so embarrassing” he thought aloud. 

Oliver looked at him with disbelief, then let out a bitter scoff. “This is what you have to say after getting hit by a damn car?” He was shaking his head “I don’t believe it”. 

Then there was about an hour wasted on convincing everyone he was okay, especially that poor old man that had hit him. He kept offering to drive Elio to the nearest hospital which was a whopping forty-five minutes away, but Elio re-assured him there was no need. His ankle hurt like a bitch, but asides from that and a few scrapes, he would live to see another day. He was lucky that car had been going like seven miles per hour. 

Oliver was still seated on the ground beside him as the crowd surrounding them finally dispersed. His hands were on his knees with his head down. 

 

“Oliver?” 

…

“Oliver?”

…

“OLIVER!”

The older man glared up at him, as if _Elio_ was the one who had run _him_ over with a car. “What?”. 

“I can’t walk” Elio said sheepishly. 

“Oh yeah? Maybe you should of thought about that before you went throwing yourself on to on-coming traffic”. 

Elio frowned “Well, maybe if you hadn’t made me wait for you so long, than I wouldn’t have felt tempted to get run over by a car!” 

Oliver glowered at him. Then he got up and started walking away. Seriously? Now was not the time for him to do his _Later!_ tactics. 

“Hey! Where you going?” 

“Store. Phone. I’m going to call Anchise to see if he can come pick you up.” He said curtly, “Try not to get yourself killed again”. 

Elio scoffed, he couldn’t believe Oliver was acting so butt-hurt over everything. He expected a little sympathy from the guy. After all, he wasn’t the one who had to deal with a _possibly_ broken ankle for the next few weeks. He didn’t need the older guy to belittle him like this when he was already feeling like crap. 

Then he saw him stomp out the store, quickly eying over at Elio as if he was one of those idiot kids at the grocery store that venture off when their mothers weren’t paying attention to them. _Hello! Messed up ankle here!_ He wasn’t going anywhere even if he wanted to. 

“Mafalda picked up. She said that Anchise and your dad went out”. Oliver stood above him with his hands on his hips. 

“Oh” Elio remembered about the new excavation site his dad was talking about this morning over breakfast. He had told Mafalda how him and Anchise wouldn’t be home for dinner. 

“She said to call a taxi and get you home as soon as possible. I told her you only hurt your ankle but she still wants you to do a check up at the hospital some time this week”. 

“A taxi’s going to take forever to arrive at this time of the day.” Elio whined. Then he did a double-take at Oliver “Wait, you told Mafalda?”

“You mean- about you getting hit by a car?” he gave him a hard glare “Yes, I felt the need to inform her that.” 

_Oh no no no,_ Mafalda was going to smother him when he got home. She was never going to let him walk out on his own. He was never going to see the light of day again. “Are you serious?” 

“What? You want me to lie to her? Tell her that you fell off your bike? You look like shit Elio, I would drag you to the hospital myself right now if you weren’t such a stubborn-”. 

“For the last time, I said I’m okay! It’s only my ankle alright? Why the hell would you tell _Mafalda_? She’s going to baby me for the next few months” he tried getting himself off the ground, and managed to keep his balance on his uninjured leg. “See? I’m okay.”

Oliver didn’t look too impressed. “Maybe she _should_ baby you, because you act like a damn kid all the time”. 

The younger boy scowled. He hated being called a kid; except by his mom, but _Oliver.._ Oliver had no right to call him a kid. “Fuck you” he spat out. 

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you” 

 

… _Shit._ Those words hit Elio more viciously and much harder than that car did an hour ago. All he could do was stare blankly at the man standing in front of him. Then his stomach dropped and he felt sick. Oliver _knew._ How long had he known? All this time… he thought they had been on even playing fields, when in reality Oliver had the upper hand. He had already seen right through him. He knew about how much Elio had wanted him, and his response to that yearning was to play the younger boy like a damn fiddle. 

_Traitor._ TRAITOR TRAITOR TRAITOR!!

All of a sudden, he felt like a claustrophobe in an jam-packed elevator. He had to get out. 

Oliver's stare made him feel naked, like he was baring every part of himself to be dissected and judged.

As much as his ankle was giving him shit right now, every ounce of his body told him to get the hell away from Oliver. Save whatever shred of dignity he had left. His first instinct was to walk.. well more like _limp_ towards his bike..

“Wait- Elio!” Oliver started calling after him. That had only made the younger boy drag his feet faster. “Elio! Where are you going?”

“Home”

“You gotta be kidding me? You’re not walking home like _this_ ”.

Oliver stalked after him like it was his obligation. Like he was a damn babysitter. That’s all that this was to Oliver, wasn’t it? Babysitting some kid who had some dumb crush on him. 

“Leave me the hell alone” he hissed. He started reaching out for his bike. The older man reached out to take hold of his hands. Elio snapped away. 

“Elio..be reasonable. You can barely _walk._ You think you’re going to be able to _bike?_ ” the vindictive tone he had earlier turned in to a pitiful one. 

Elio stood there defeated. Either way, he lost. 

“Let me call a cab..” He reached out to grab on to the younger boy’s shoulders. Elio flinched and moved back. Then he saw a flash of guilt go across Oliver’s face. _Yeah, that’s right.. be guilty._

 _Ouch._ Those couple dozen of steps he had taken back to his bike probably hadn’t done his ankle any good. It was burning up like crazy and next thing he knew, he was slumping down on to the ground involuntarily. He winced a little as he hit the floor. Oliver squatted down in front of him and stared at him with his pitying eyes.

“Let me call us a cab ok, it doesn’t matter how long it takes. We’ll just wait, alright?” 

Elio nodded while avoiding eye contact. The older man let out a tiny sigh and went in to the convenience store to make his call. 

Then, after the longest forty-five minutes that Elio has ever lived through, their cab arrived. 

 

***

Somehow his little escapade of storming off had caused his ankle to swell up twice it’s size. He’d be whining his head off if it had been anyone but Oliver sitting beside him in the cab. He didn't want to speak with Oliver, nor look at him. 

The scene kept repeating itself in Elio’s head like some scary horror movie scene stuck on repeat.

“Fuck you”

“Oh, _you’d like that wouldn’t you_ ” 

Oliver knew. He knew, all this time. It explains all the sudden avoidances and cold shoulders he gave Elio. He was probably disgusted. Then all the times he would be nice? He had been pitying him. It made Elio burn with anger. He wanted to hurt the man beside him. Hit him. Take a swing at him. Every interaction between them was exposed and tarnished by those very words that Oliver had muttered to him earlier. He wish he had never heard it. Wish there would be a way for him to turn back time and stop Oliver from saying it. Then, he could go back to being the same clueless _Elio_ he was before all this had happened. Ignorance is bliss after-all, it was knowing that was unbearable. He was too exhausted to continue thinking about all the crap that Oliver had inadvertently revealed. 

His chest was feeling tight, and his breath grew heavy. He distracted himself by looking at the familiar scenery outside the car window. 

By the time they reached home, it was evening. As the cab turned in to his driveway, Elio wondered how he was going to get upstairs to his room. His ankle felt slightly less in pain than from when he first got in the car, though it could of just been numb from him sitting there. He really didn’t want Oliver to have to drag him through the door. He couldn’t handle the idea of Oliver looking at him, let alone _touching him._

Oliver handed some cash over to the driver. Judging by the overly enthusiastic _Grazie!_ from the chauffeur, he probably had received a generous tip. Elio quickly opened his side of the car door before Oliver would come around and fetch him. 

He took his first step out of the vehicle with his good leg. Not bad. He could probably make it to the front door and get Mafalda to haul his ass upstairs. All he needed to do was to step forward as lightly as possible with his injured limb… A whimper came out his lips as he tumbled down on to the floor. _Dammit!_ His leg was a _TRAITOR._ Oliver abruptly dashed towards him and held his shoulder. He looked over at Elio’s swollen ankle and became a little panic-stricken. 

Then he tried lifting the injured boy back in to the seat of the cab. 

“Listen Elio, you can’t put anymore pressure on your ankle.” 

He leaned forward and placed one arm on Elio’s back and the other arm underneath his legs as if he was going to lift him up. 

The younger boy started protesting. “I don’t need you to carry me.” It was the first words he’d spoken to Oliver in the past hour and a half. 

The cab driver turned around and stared at them confusedly from the driver’s seat, wondering why the boy was reluctant to leave. 

Elio felt like an idiot making the driver wait for him, so he grudgingly wrapped his arm around Oliver’s shoulders. 

As the older boy lifted him up and started carrying him towards the door, he felt a sudden pang of sadness. It wasn't the same kind of misery that had plagued him earlier, he didn't feel angry anymore. He felt _heartbroken._ He wanted to find solace in Oliver’s warm body. He hadn’t noticed he was sobbing in to the crook of Oliver’s neck until he saw a few of his tears go down his shirt. He’ll apologize to him afterwards about it.

The older man was carrying him up the stairs and he was secretly grateful that he would be able to weep in Oliver’s arms for just a minute longer. 

Once they reached his room, he was placed gently on his bed.

He was still sobbing and sobbing with Oliver half-kneeled in front of him staring at him like he was the saddest thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

The whole day had been too much for Elio, getting hit by a car, skidding off in mid-air, his ankle hurting like a bitch, Oliver being snarky, Oliver calling him a _kid_ , Oliver knowing about his feelings. He just had to cry out all the stress of everything in that moment.

Oliver stayed silent, he looked like he was at a loss for words. 

Then, he reached out and wiped away Elio’s tears. The younger boy couldn’t help but lean in to his touch. He wondered if this was a trick, to just get him to stop crying all over the damn place. 

Then all of a sudden, Oliver was leaning closer and closer towards him, with his hands still cusped on his face. He hovered his lips over Elio’s, as if he was waiting for the younger boy’s permission. Elio dipped in to the kiss and let out a moan as Oliver gave in and gently worked his warm lips in to his. The older man was being gentle and tantalizingly slow, gradually building the pace up as if he was allowing himself to enjoy it more and more within every billowing breath. Then he pulled back and proceeded to bring his lips to Elio’s jaw, around his cheek bones, then on to Elio’s fluttering eyelids. He placed his forehead against the younger boy’s and when Elio opened his eyes, he saw that Oliver was staring deeply in to his. 

For the first time, he saw the _real_ Oliver. Unmasked and exposed. The Oliver that he knew was hiding under the surface all along, wistfully waiting to come out. Elio felt that this was something that had took every bit of strength from the older man to reveal. _This was Oliver’s confession to him._

He lifted his face up to give one final peck on to Elio's forehead, then pulled back. Then he gave an _I’m Sorry_ look at him, and slowly headed out the door. The younger boy pouted at the sudden loss of contact. 

Elio was dumbfounded. He ran his fingers through his lips and traced every spot that Oliver had touched just mere seconds ago. 

 

Then five minutes later, Mafalda bursted through the doors with a large bag of ice and started her nagging. 

 

****

As he limped over the table to pick up the Heraclitus book from the floor, he realized that even though the older man had ended up avoiding him at dinner that night, the very next day, and still to this very moment.. it was worth it.

The ability to replay what had happened that evening over and over again in his head, essentially immortalizing that moment of Oliver's lips on his. It was like a gift given to him.

He was glad he followed Oliver out on the afternoon stroll after-all. He was even glad he got pummelled by a car. Because everything that happened that day had brought him closer to that very memory. To be able to relive every bit and piece of that memory ... it was all worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So I absolutely adore the way Oliver and Elio ends up sharing their first kiss in the book/film, but I just decided to change it up in my version... just for the fck of it :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


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